


Passionfruit (And The Poet Cried For More)

by pete_za



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, almost canon except for one tiny detail, also dex is an ass and makes everything worse the harder he tries, chowder runs the whole show, google the each part of the title after you finish the fic !, it adds more context, this is a fic about the frogs, yes its nurseydex but its about the frogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pete_za/pseuds/pete_za
Summary: Sometimes, you can’t fix your mistakes by saying “I’m sorry."





	Passionfruit (And The Poet Cried For More)

**Author's Note:**

> It took me six months to develop and write this so I hope you enjoy! Also, the storyline of this fic follows (almost) the current Year 3 Arc.

“Shut _up_ Derek, oh my God.” Dex rolled his eyes and nudged at his boyfriend with his shoulder. Nursey lost his balance, tripping over his new Adidas and off the edge of the sidewalk.

Dex had never been the type to relay his feelings toward others in a healthy way, _especially_ to Nursey. Did he know that he needed to change his ways? Yes. Would he? No. In his head, Dex juxtaposed opening up to someone to cracking open a can of hurt that’d been stored in his pantry for far too long.

In other words, William Poindexter had a mental wall that needed tearing down soon, before anyone he cared about got hurt.

“Will you just let me _be_ for once, Will?” Nursey’s hands balled up into fists.

It seemed as if the demolition day hadn’t come quick enough.

Usually, Nursey’s responses to Dex’s lashing out were laced with his telltale honey laugh and a one line clap-back that sounded like something out of a serialized sitcom. But something was different this time.

Something had finally snapped inside Derek Malik Nurse.

His brain raced to analyze the sentence Nursey had practically spat at him. There were too many red flags to begin with: the way his arms crossed across his chest then dropped to tight fists at his sides, the way he emphasized the word ‘be’ (and Nurse was an English major for Christ’s sake, every word that fell from his beautiful lips had a meaning and a purpose), and most of all, the way Nursey addressed him. ‘Will,’ Nursey had said. Derek rarely called him anything other than Dex or Dexy or Billy or any other nickname that Dex had deemed annoying. He hadn’t thought he’d said anything wrong. _What did he do wrong?_

“I’m so tired of you _belittling_ and _nitpicking_ at every, single thing I say to you. Like I _thought_ I could take it. Emphasis on ‘thought’, Dex.” At this point Nursey’s hands were just balled up to keep them from shaking. “But you always, always, _always_ have something to fucking _say_ about it. You’re almost as bad as my Mother oh my God. _Why is nothing I do good enough for you_?”

Dex gaped like a big freckled fish, searching for words. He cursed under his breath, hating how even in anger, Nursey always managed to sound eloquent.

“I–I don’t mean to Derek…you know I don’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

Nursey’s anger melted for a split second before the emotion snapped back onto his face. “No. Not this time. Figure it out yourself.” Nursey backed away from Dex then stalked off in the direction they came.

 _“What just happened?”_ A chill made its way down Dex’s spine, “ _What could I have done to rile him up like that?”_

The poetry slam.

“I totally blew him off _,_ ” Dex whispered to himself, a callused hand threading through his thick orange hair. “ _Fuck_.”

There were two things Derek Nurse loved more than anything in this world: the people he referred to as friends, and his writing. Dex had just disrespected one of those sacred things to his face.

He called Chowder, who picked up on the first ring. “You _really_ pissed him off, you know that right?” The accusation was immediate; C never beat around the bush when it came to Official Frog Business.

“I can tell,” Dex deadpanned into the receiver.

“If you have to ask what you did I’m literally going to get Cait, and we will _murder_ you, Dex.” C was only serious about one thing: treating the people he loved right. Chowder never threatened, he made promises.

William Poindexter was a dead man.

“…I forgot about Nurse’s poetry slam.”

There was a short pause before Chowder continued. “I will spare your life only because you got most of it right. It wasn’t just a poetry slam, Dex. He invited you be his guest of honor for his part of the Fall Showcase. He had a whole set. I went, Cait went, even Jack–who had a _game–_ was Skyping it from the Falconers jet. The whole team was literally there. A good chunk of his stuff was about you, his _boyfriend_. How humiliating is it to find out the person you invited–your muse–couldn’t even be bothered to show? Nurse was a little bit more than crushed.” Dex opened his mouth, and then closed it. He gaped to the strangers that passed him on the sidewalk. “He only met up with you today because he thought you’d have a good fucking explanation for what happened last night.”

“Chris, I–

“Save it Poindexter.” With those words, the phone went dead in Dex’s ear.

 

Over the course of the next week, Nursey proceeded to act like it was their freshman year all over again, minus their never ending arguments. It hurt, but Dex understood why Nurse felt the need to freeze him out.

To fill the Nursey-shaped void in his life, Dex took on more requests as Samwell’s student handyman. He saw less of the team, avoided the Haus more often, and studied in his dorm room rather than Founder’s. As long as he still was going to practice, Ransom and Holster couldn’t do anything to him.

“It’s not like it’s my fault,” Dex mumbled one day after leaving Faber, “it’s all in the name of giving Nurse some space.” So give him space he did. Dex would’ve given Nursey the whole universe if he’d asked.

 

Late fall turned to winter. The average temperature dropped ten degrees. Dex and Nursey hadn’t spoken off the ice in over a month. The team blamed it on seasonal depression. The d-men went along with it, not wanting to delve into their ever-tumultuous relationship.

The playoffs loomed over the team’s head. Roadies were quieter without Dex and Nursey’s compassionate bickering.

The two had come to an unspoken agreement that they were taking a break. The team had come to an unspoken assumption that they were broken up. But what’s in a name really?

The rest of the hockey season continued on to the same effect. Samwell made it to the playoffs, then Frozen Four, and then before they knew it, Ransom and Holster were hoisting a trophy up together on center ice. Dex could pick Shitty’s and Jack’s yells from the crowd and Bitty was holding tight onto a sobbing Lardo.

Nursey was in the midst of the team celly, but he still managed to catch his gaze.

“Good assist,” Dex mouthed. Derek lifted a corner of this mouth in response and then averted his gaze.

Hockey season was over, now there was no pressure for Dex to hang around the Haus all the time.

He wanted to kick himself for thinking that.

 

* * *

 

Nursey was sprawled, content, on the disgusting green Haus couch. He could fill volumes about his feelings on the couch. He _has_ filled volumes about his feelings on the couch.

Bitty was whipping up a pie in the kitchen, maple crusted apple. That was all he seemed to make these days.

Ransom and Holster play fought over who cheated on their last round of Mario Karts. Lardo watched on composed as usual, but amused.

Dex walked in with a girl.

The presence of a stranger made Nursey sit up straight. The fighting stopped, the baking stopped, all eyes immediately trained on Dex and his guest. It wasn’t the girl part that made the team stop in their tracks; because Lardo was a resident and Caitlyn practically was too, it was that she was an unfamiliar face. Ransom was part coral reef and part social butterfly, so he out of all people should have known her, but with one glance his way, Nursey had a sinking feeling that the Oluransi Facebook-Excel method had failed.

The Haus was only this silent in the dead of the night.

Dex cleared his throat.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend. Her name is Charlie. Charlie, this is my team.” Nursey tried not to wince at the syntax Dex used. Simple sentences are used to convey basic ideas; this was _not_ a basic idea. How was he supposed to wrap his mind around this? How was he just supposed to sit back and _take_ this?

Samwell Men’s Hockey as an entity blinked, introduced themselves, then congratulated Dex and Charlie by making them feel as uncomfortable as possible in the loving way only they could.

Nursey brooded in the corner of the couch; he hoped he was invisible to Dex, Charlie and her Taylor Swift-esque bob.

“Omg, we should _totally_ start a SMH SOAPS bro,” Holster announced to the Haus, but mainly Ransom.

“ _Bro_.” Ransom said just as loudly and replied, “Shitty’d be so proud of us, and we’re all basically dating, so.”

Nursey tried to not take offence by fidgeting with the beanie situated artfully on his hair.

“What do you mean by SOAPS? And it’s Holster right?” It was the first time she’d directly addressed one of her boyfriend’s teammates other than, “Hi nice to meet you,” and Nursey, for lack of better words, felt like puking up the slice of pie he’d eaten earlier.

She sounded like words could fall from her lips and you’d see poetry at her feet. To anyone, a voice like that would be gorgeous. Nursey realized that Charlie was an over romanticized version of him. Dex had upgraded–well, upgraded to some decent looking white chick, but it was an upgrade nevertheless.

“Um, SOAPS is an acronym for Significant Others and Partners. It’s used in the sports world for players’ partners and stuff.”

“Kinda like WAGS?”

“It’s more inclusive that way.” Nursey said in his White-People-Pleasing Andover voice, because he knew Dex (and the rest of the team) hated it and what was the point of keeping up appearances with Charlie.

“I understand, but I highly doubt anyone on the men’s hockey team would have anything other than a girlfriend,” she laughed lightheartedly. The living room was frigid. “As notorious as you guys are, I assumed there’d be more locker room talk and less inclusivity.”

Chowder and Ransom looked incredulously at her.

“You assumed wrong then darlin’,” Bitty said in an over done, ‘bless your heart’ syrupy drawl that Nursey expected the Georgia humidity feel similar to. Bittle narrowed his eyes and marched back to his domain.

“Not chill,” Nursey felt himself whisper.

The team nonverbally agreed that Charlie and Dex weren’t as close as they should’ve been. The tops of Dex’s ears were a smoking gun–red as the apples Bitty baked with. Samwell Men’s Hockey were idiots when it came to their own intrapersonal relationships, but with other people, they could sniff out flaws like a pack of bloodhounds.

Lardo cleared her throat over the deafening silence. “Where’d you say you go school at?”

“Tufts.”

Ransom and Holster looked at each other and simultaneously oohed.

Dex sighed like bringing Charlie to the Haus was a mistake–which it was. “Well, I think we’ll be going now.”

“It was nice meeting you all! Hope to see you soon!” Charlie cheerily said.

Nursey returned to his comfortable couch slouch and normal voice. “Yeah, and I hope you don’t fucking choke.”

Everyone pretended to not hear Nursey and said polite goodbyes. Derek resigned to staring blankly at his Twitter feed until they left. When the front door closed, Chris Chow spoke for the first time since Charlie arrived.

“Just when I thought William Poindexter couldn’t make _more_ of an ass of himself, look what he goes and does!”

All Nursey could bring himself to say was a halfhearted, “Preach.”

Silence.

“Yo, Nurse,” Lardo spoke up, “you really didn’t deserve that.” Her dark eyes were filled with sincerity and irritation.

As soon as he felt the hot pinpricks of tears in his eyes, Derek managed a gruff, “I need to study,” and walked out of the Haus.

Before he even closed the front door, the murmuring had begun.

 

“What the _fuck_ is his deal?” Derek kicked his desk as soon he was shut inside the safe place he called his dorm room. Papers flew everywhere, the disarray only served to make him angrier. “Dex and fucking _Charlie_ ,” he scoffed, “how the fuck did Poindexter find someone else _quicker_ than me? How the fuck did he get _over_ me?” Derek leaned back on his desk for support, then asked himself, “How am I not over him?”

The room was silent.

“He’s a total ass and I’m not over him.”

Nursey kicked the papers on the floor again in agitation, and then sighed heavily as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He was not in the mood to read pity text messages from his teammates.

He steadied his breathing while his phone continued to go off. “Fuck it,” Derek said, exasperated, as he finally gave into whoever was spamming his messages.

**shark boy 4:38 pm**

_im sorry about dex_

_but honestly, fuck him!_

_lets go out tonight_

Nursey had a saying that applied to his life more often than not: “Nothing fixes a sour mood like a couple of drinks.” The corner of his mouth turned up at Chris’s proposition.

**lil langston 4:43 pm**

_U literally just read my mind c_

_I love you so much, all homo_

_Break up with cait bc youre literally mine now chow_

**shark boy 4:45 pm**

_aye aye captain !!! lmao_

_luv u bunches too_

That was how Chris Chow found himself dressed in Nursey’s Going Out clothes (a button up over a t-shirt with cutoff jean shorts) on Nursey Patrol at Nursey’s favorite hole in the wall bar, watching him grind on and get grinded on by seemingly everyone. Boy, did he know how to charm a crowd.

“C! I _love_ it here!” Derek tried, unsuccessfully, to yell over blaring bass.

Chow laughed at Nursey who was just pushing the limits of tipsy. “Oh, I’m aware!”

A tray of drinks passed through the crowd and Derek grabbed two, downing the first in one gulp.  Chowder took the second and shook his head at Nursey. “That makes four, no more drinks Nurse. I’m not carrying you back to campus!”

Nurse rolled his eyes and sauntered off into the crowd, tossing a slightly slurred, “Whatever Dad,” his way.

Chowder sighed, downed the drink in his hand, and followed after him.

 

Nursey awoke with the sun streaming on his face, a slight headache, and a man in his bed.

He remembered everything vividly from Chowder’s worried father act that developed into tipsy suburban mother, to all the people he danced with, and even what he and Jordan did after they left the bar. No matter how drunk Nursey got, he always remembered the events that had transpired the night before. It was a burden he was usually thankful for.

“I drink to forget, but I always remember,” Nursey mocked himself and cackled quietly, quoting his favorite Brandon Rogers video.

Jordan, still dozing, stirred beside him. Derek pressed a kiss to the dark skin of his face.     

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Their dark eyes met in the comfortable silence.

“I slept well last night.”

“Oh, did you now?” Nursey replied slyly. Jordan laughed, burying his head into the crook of Derek’s neck. He curled into him and Nursey let himself relax into the warmth of a foreign embrace. He prayed to God that maybe the man next to him was the person he’d been looking for these last couple months. But part of his brain insisted that Jordan wasn’t permanent, because no one in his life ever was. “ _Even your parents don’t want anything to do with you, Derek. How could he? How could anyone?”_

“Derek.” Silence. “Derek.”

“Yeah?” The word was soft, breathless.

“Where do you go when you get quiet like that?”

His response came out quieter than he would have liked. “Somewhere I wish I didn’t visit as often as I do.”

Jordan held him a little tighter.

At one point during their day spent lingering in post coital haze, getting to know each other through swollen lips and errant touches, and eating the stale snacks at the bottom of Nursey’s book bag, Jordan got up to use the bathroom.

Nursey was boxer brief clad and splayed out on his mussed sheets, scrolling through Twitter, when a call came through from Chowder.

“Yo, C!”

“Ohmygod Nursey!” Chow’s words came out breathless.

Derek sat up abruptly, taking in the tone of his friend's’ voice. “Yeah?” he warily replied.

“I was trying to hold him but he’s coming up anyway.”

“Wait? Who?”

Chowder disregarded the question and plowed on, “Everyone at the Haus told him to get over himself and talk to you. So he’s on the way to your dorm. In hindsight I realize that the guy you brought home last night might still be there. _Please_ tell me he isn’t.”

Nursey let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and ran a hand over his un-groomed hair. “Never a boring day around here.”

There was a rap at his door. Jordan was still MIA.

“IgottagoCbye.” Nursey ended the call.

Standing up from his bed, he surveyed his room, which was in twenty shades of disarray. There was another knock.

“Open up Nurse. I know you’re in there.” The unmistakable monotony of Dex’s voice was muted through the thick wood frame.

Nursey opened the door in the middle of Dex’s third knock; his fist hung in the air dumbly as they stared at each other in silence. Nursey crossed his arms, bicep tattoo flexing, and leaned on the doorjamb.

Dex swallowed.

“Are we just going to stare at each other Poindexter? Or did you come up here with intentions that wouldn’t waste my time?”

“I’m sorry,” Dex blurted, “a million times over, I’m sorry.”

Nurse made a motion with his hand that implied ‘continue.’

“That was a real dick move yesterday and I shouldn’t have brought Charlie over to the Haus, especially with intentions to flaunt her. I realize that I should have been more honest with her about me…and uh, the team.”

“Congratulations! You formed a decent apology.”

“I just thought–

“You thought wrong Poindexter. You can’t come and apologize to me after the whole team chews you out about your actions. It’s not genuine. You _also_ can’t expect for me to be tripping over myself to get you back, so when you finally come to your senses about everything that’s gone on since the fall–

“Is there a problem here?”

Both heads swiveled to the sound of Jordan’s voice.

“Yeah, but it’s not any of your business,” Dex snapped and turned back towards Derek.

“He was just leaving, baby.” Nursey held his ground.

The expression on Will’s face instantly dimmed. The puzzle in his head clicked together. Why the guy was wearing Nurse’s SMH shirt, the reason why Derek wasn’t dressed and it was past 2 o’clock, the origin of the dark purple bruises that littered the portion of Nurse visible to him, and the ones on the guy that weren’t as noticeable, but they were there nevertheless.

“ _Oh_.”

“You’re _such_ a fucking hypocrite Will.”

Dex swiveled away and walked down the hall towards the elevator, then stopped abruptly and without turning around he said, “She broke up with me after we left.”

Derek refused to tear his eyes away from the carpeted floor as he spoke. “Please…keep walking Dex. Don’t embarrass yourself even more than you already have.”

“Do I even want to know?” Jordan asked once Dex was in the elevator and out of earshot. He curled an arm around Derek’s waist.

“He’s my ex.”

“Recent ex?”

“Recent enough.”

“Bad breakup?”

“You could say that.”

“Let’s go back to bed then.” Jordan caught Nursey’s hand.

“Okay.”

 

“Look Dex,” Chowder said through a mouthful of fries, “You’re my friend–you _and_ Nursey are my friends, so I’m gonna be honest with you.”

Dex flinched. He wasn’t sure how much honesty he could take from Chow in the middle of the dining hall after being chewed out–yet again _–_ by the team.

“You’re acting like a douchebag white boy.”

“ _What._ ”

“I said what I said,” Chowder crossed his arms and leaned back. “It’s obvious you want Nursey back, but does he want you back? You’re not taking his feelings into consideration. He’s the one who broke up with you.”

More puzzle pieces clicked. “I’ve only wanted him back on my terms,” Dex said slowly, “…I never once tried to get right with him in a gesture he would appreciate.” They let the dining hall chatter fill the silence as Dex mulled things over in his mind. “I was being selfish–a selfish douchebag white boy.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Chris clapped his hands twice. “And I only had to help you out with sixty percent of that! You’re done capitalizing off of my ideas white boy. Figure the rest out on your own.” He took his tray and left. Dex’s ears went red from shame.

“So all I have to do is show Nursey that I’ve grown as a person in one grand gesture,” he muttered to himself. Dex scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed. “Which isn’t going to be difficult at all.”

After a long while staring at the medley of food he’d gotten from the dinner buffet, Dex stood up, tray in hand, to dispose of it. As he scraped the uneaten chicken and gravy from his plate and slid the Samwell red tray onto the conveyer belt, a student struggling with an arm full of posters stapled one of her flyers on the bulletin board beside the trashcans. The brightly colored block letters popped out at Dex and a grin crept onto his face: 35th Annual Samwell Spring Semester Poetry Showcase.

“I’m gonna end this thing how I started it,” Dex whispered to himself thinking fondly about how Nurse would most likely have a literary term for a moment like this.

The Spring Showcase was a month away. He could write _one_ poem in that time, right?

 

One week until the showcase, William Poindexter was holed up in his dorm room still writing the poem that would hopefully get him at the least the Poet Laureate nomination and a standing ovation, and at the most, Derek Malik Nurse himself.

He had signed up for a slot at the Showcase and filled out all the required forms, but still yet had to produce a poem.

“You know if it’s bad, Nurse is probably never going to talk to you again.” Holster had said at the Kegster the week previous. Dex was painfully aware of that fact, so painfully aware.

Also, at the Kegster, somewhere between the arrival of star Falconers forward Alexei Mashkov and Bitty producing Easter eggs full of miniature booze, Nursey pulled Dex aside.

He looked as unchill as ever as he leaned on Betsy with tiny bottles of alcohol stuffed in the pockets of his skinny jeans. Dex thought he probably looked the same way in Nurse’s eyes.

“You wanted to talk?” Dex started off the conversation and placed his sweaty hands in the large pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah.” Nursey nodded and looked out the kitchen windows–towards the sun that was streaming through the foliage and making patterns on the grass, so he wouldn’t have to meet Dex’s eyes. “I was–um–wondering if you wanted to come to the poetry…thing in a couple weeks?”

“…Like the one I missed back in the fall?” his voice hitched.

Nursey nodded, trying not to look as nervous as he was.

“I…,” Dex trailed off, averting his gaze from Nursey, “I already have plans. For that night.”  His words lingered in the air. Nursey pretended as if Dex’s double rejection didn’t sting. He heaved himself off Betsy and started to walk off, but not before Dex caught his wrist.

“I’m going to make it up to you Nursey, just you wait.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” his words weren’t harsh. It was spoken in the words of a man who had been worn down. He also didn’t move his arm out of Dex’s sweaty grip. Dex took it as a sign to keep the conversation going.

“H-How’s...um, your boyfriend?”

“Who? Oh. Jordan.” Nursey’s wrist dropped limply to his side, “He–uh…left a week, I guess, after our...little run in. Study abroad in Zanzibar. We called it off.” He had visibly deflated.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s chill.” It wasn’t chill.

Dex could tell Nursey was itching to get away from their conversation. “I’ll see you around?”

Nursey bobbed his head in response and tried to keep his walking pace at a normal speed as he left the kitchen.

 

Dex erased the whole last stanza he had written. All his mechanical pencils were now either out of lead or an eraser; he fully understood how Nurse felt all the time, but surely on a smaller scale.

He erased another stanza. And another stanza. He wrote a line onto the stanza remaining, groaned, then erased that stanza.

Will stared at a blank and smudgy piece of loose-leaf paper. He crumpled it up and tossed it towards his overfilled wastebasket.

“I’m never going to get Derek back and it’s all my fault,” he hissed, tugging at the root of his orange hair. Dex, reaching to turn off his desk lamp, made a sound of frustration. Standing up from his desk chair, Dex strode over and threw himself down on his twin XL. “It’s no one’s fault but my own what happened between us.” His head hit the pillow. “All I wanna do is fix us.” He wrenched his eyes shut. There was a beat of silence. “Oh.” Dex sat up in bed.

 

* * *

 

 

The Spring Semester Poetry Showcase usually filled Samwell’s amphitheater to the brim with lawn chairs and ENOs and towels and blankets. It was one of the most well attended arts events and exponentially bigger than the one held during the fall semester.

Will was nervous. Going in front of hundreds of his peers and spilling his heart was easier said than done, and there was no way to predict the actions of human beings like they’re all algorithms working in sync to create Dex’s desired outcome. He wondered how chronically unchill Derek Nurse was able to do it.

Because he wasn’t Nursey, Dex did all he could with the limited power he was granted. He recited and recited until he could read the words he had written on the back of his eyelids. It wasn’t much, but it prevented a situation where he stepped out on stage and drew a blank.

There was no predetermined list of appearances, every presenter simply drew a number out of a box an hour before the show started and figured out their spot in the showcase. Derek showed up late, looking a little more worse for wear than usual. Will ducked into the shadows the trees created, with the intentions of hiding out until the show started.

The hockey team was spread out on multiple blankets near the front of the stage. As usual, the guys churned out in droves to support each teammate’s endeavors that happened to not be hockey. Because of what had happened at Nursey’s last event, Ransom and Holster made sure everyone would be there for him.

Dex could hear the team hooting and hollering all the way from his position under the tree as Nursey walked onto the stage. He read a poem that Dex had never heard before. It wasn’t a feat for him, but it still had Dex awestruck as Derek read his work from his favorite beat up moleskine. It was about heartbreak–a remix of a popular Drake song Will didn’t know. It was something about being passive, and Dex knew it was going to be about him even before Nurse began to speak. He wasn’t ashamed to say that it made him tear up a bit, and left a sense of longing in his chest when the final line was spoken and Nursey was given a thunderous applause. Dex clapped along.

Will was one of the last people to speak. He hated and loved in equal measure that he was given that opportunity.

Every member of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team was shocked into silence when Dex walked across the stage and sat on the stool in front of the microphone. Even Holster, who was the only person who even kind of knew about Dex’s idea, was surprised that he went through with his little plan.

“Hi everyone,” he grinned sheepishly, “my name is Will Poindexter, I play for the men’s hockey team here.”

Dex looked over to where Nursey was sitting with the team, leaning coolly against the lawn chair Ransom and Holster shared, making sure he had his eyes. Beside him, Bitty’s fingers were tapping away at his iPhone’s screen. Dex made a mental note to check twitter when all this was over. Derek tensed as their eyes met, Dex could sense his discomfort from the couple yards they were away from each other. He cleared his throat and began to recite the poem he now knew by heart.

“This is a short poem I wrote for one of my teammates.” A murmur rippled through the crowd.  “I like to call it ‘How I’m Fixing Us.’

I’m good at making things

So I built you a poem

It’s full of the things I haven’t said,

The things I should’ve said,

The things I wish I said

I wish I could’ve built a better us

But I fucked the foundation up

So now I’m going to rebuild our relationship,

With all the tools you’ve given me _._ ”

The applause wasn’t as loud as the one Nursey had received, but Dex felt just as valid knowing that people had liked what he had written. He bowed, then hopped off the stage, making his way to the splattering of blankets his teammates were sprawled on. Nursey stood.

Dex stopped walking and began talking when they were at an arm’s length away.

“I think the moment we–I went wrong was the beginning. I didn’t want to communicate, and when I was frustrated I just took it out on you. No one deserves that, especially you Derek.” Nursey’s lips parted as if he was about to speak, then closed. Dex continued, “Chowder helped me realize that I was being selfish. So, so selfish, and honestly, I don’t know how you tolerated my bullshit for so long. In hindsight, I was probably a walking microaggression and borderline emotionally abusive.” Nurse shrugged in an It’s-Chill, But-Not-Really kind of way. “Have I said ‘I’m sorry’ yet?” Derek shook his head minutely, eyes still locked on Dex’s. He paused to take a breath and slow his racing heart. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through these last couple of months. I should’ve been a better boyfriend. This isn’t me begging for us to get together again. You don’t have to if–

“Oh my God, Will!” Nurse shoved him, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. “I appreciate the heartfelt apology. Please let’s communicate more, and yeah, you were a dick sixty percent of the time.” Dex flushed red.

“Let’s start off slow?” Nursey propositioned.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The crowd clapped hard–not for Dex and Nursey, but for the last poet’s presentation. The hockey team also clapped hard–not for the last poet, but for their teammates.

“I think it’s kind of funny how this ended like it began.”

Nursey hummed in response and grabbed Dex’s freckled hand, intertwining their fingers. “A better word to describe our situation would be ‘ironic,’ and I think the literary technique is called bookends.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop a comment below and tell me how you felt about it, or ask me questions or whatever because there’s a couple easter eggs (no pun intended) that I put in. 
> 
> you can find me @/bitsofzimbits on tumblr


End file.
